We've had a day of strong winds and heavy showers interspersed with bright, sunny periods. I was gazing out of a window a wee while ago watching the long grass waving in the wind and into my head popped that song:
"I wish I were back in Liverpool,
Liverpool town where I was born,
Where there aint no trees, no scented breeze,
No fields of waving corn,
But there's lots of girls
With peroxide curls
And the black and tan flows free.
Oh! sitting in a bed on the old pier head
It's Liverpool town for me."
My dad used to sing songs like this to his own guitar accompaniment in the evenings after we went to bed. My five or six year old sister liked this one, picked up thewords and tune and, when asked by some nuns at school if she had a favourite song, sang this one.
You can imagine their faces! "And who taught you that song?"
My daddy.
Thing is, my dad was a lecturer at the teacher training college that the nuns ran. 
). Another one was a little ditty which my mother would sing which went: "Oh ain't it shocking, a flea ran up my stocking. It bit my bum and made me run. Oh ain't it shocking". My mother, who always looked the picture of innocence with her fair curls, would trot these out at all the Six foot two, eyes of blue. kg v lb. cm v ft + ins
